


No Intention

by resolute



Category: Alias (Comics)
Genre: Alcoholism, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, Femslash, Mildly Dubious Consent, poor decision theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resolute/pseuds/resolute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre-comic, while Jess was drinking and Carol couldn't yet walk away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Intention

I never mean to get this drunk.

That's a lie.

I always mean to get this drunk.

Wait. That's a lie, too.

I don't mean anything.

"You could change your number," I mumble into Carol's shoulder. She ends up carrying me, as usual, from the cab up to my apartment. I could walk, but this is faster.

"Captain America has that number," she answers. "Too much bother to change it."

"I could stop calling," I say.

"Don't be a dick," Carol replies.

"Bitch," I correct her. "You mean don't be a bitch."

"You're too drunk to be a bitch," she says. She slings me over her shoulder for a minute and unlocks my door. "When you're this drunk, you're a dick, Jessica. An inconsiderate, whiny, useless dick."

She sets me down on the bed and sits next to me, taking off my shoes. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"No, you're not," she says. "You just think you should say that." Carol faces me. "You're not going to remember this, Jessica, so I'm going to tell you. You are going to kill yourself, you keep doing this, and I am going to be so pissed at you, you, you have no fucking idea."

Is she crying?

"I take your goddamn calls even though I am sometimes, you know, on Avengers business, because we _owe_ you. We owe you, Jessica. And you just won't take it. You won't take anything."

I'm staring at her. I can barely follow what she's saying.

"So, fuck you, Jessica Jones. You can take the job with Matt Murdock, or not, and I don't fucking care anymore. You wear out everybody who bothers to care. Me, Quartermain -- you just fucking wear us out."

I'm crying now, sloppy drunk snotty crying. "You're the only one who ever touches me," I think. Oh, shit. I said that out loud. "I didn't mean to say that out loud," I think. "Oh, fuck, I said that out loud, too, didn't I?"

"What?"

In for a penny. "When I get drunk and call you and you carry me up to my apartment that's the only time anyone touches me," I explain.

"I don't touch you."

"What?" I propped myself up on my elbows and tried to look at her. "You carry me up the stairs. Every week."

"Oh. That, yeah."

"What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing."

"Did you think I was talking sex? Sex touching?"

"Of course not."

"You did -"

" - no, I -"

" - and that's why you're all . . . " I flapped my hand at her decisively.

" - I'm not! Anything! I'm not anything."

" - you're thinking sex-thoughts. I get it, sure." I roll towards her and hug her around the waist. It's all I can reach without sitting up.

"Fuck you, Jessica, you're drunk."

"Uh-huh."

"Then let me go."

"No, I mean, uh-huh, 'fuck me,' that part uh-huh. Though, you know. I'm drunk, too."

"You're really drunk."

"You found me out."

"Let me go or I will make you."

I pull myself up on her, I grab her shoulders and I pull her face towards mine. I grab her head and I kiss her. Mostly. My aim is fucked.

It works though. Carol is furious with me. She wraps her fingers in my hair, tight. It hurts. She yanks my head around and kisses me properly. Hard. She's a fucking Kree warrior, she's so fucking strong I am afraid to move. She kisses me and shove, shoves her tongue in my mouth and my whole body lights up. The last person, the last person to touch the last person who god no -- "Get the fuck off me," I say, and push her off.

"What? What!" Carol backs off a little, but she's still got her hands in my hair. I feel like goddam puppet. "You kissed me, shithead."

I start crying again. "It's just, the last time I kissed anybody. The last time was, uh . . . "

Carol stares at me. "Well I'm not Killgrave." She holds me up with one hand. The other she touches, gently to my cheek. My tears. She's wiping away the tears. I stop crying.

"I know." Her fingers trace my lips. My breath catches at the soft touch.

Carol's staring at my mouth. Her mouth is a little open. Eyes wide. "Well, make up your mind." She rests a finger on my lips.

"I don't want to think of him. Every time," I say against her touch. I move, taking her finger into my mouth. I slide slowly back and forth, sucking gently and teasing her with my tongue. She's staring and breathing hard. Her grip on my hair tightens more. God, she's strong. So much stronger than I am. I could get hurt. The thought doesn't scare me. Carol hurting me. I shift. I put my hand between my legs and begin touching my self through my jeans. I want her to see. I want her to watch.

Carol gasps a little, watching my hand. I'm shoving my fist against my crotch, grinding through the denim. I'm so fucked up I have trouble feeling it unless it's hard. I give her finger a final long lick and move my mouth away. "Then don't," she says, finally. "Don't think of him. Think of . . ."

" . . . I want to forget." I slide my other hand under her shirt. Her body is warm, almost hot.

"Then forget," she says. She shoves me back on the bed and I fall. Carol does some stuff, I can't really see her and I have bedspins like crazy. I grab the covers, trying to not fall off the bed. Carol takes off my clothes. I can't help her really. I just let her. She lays on top of me, straddling my leg, her thigh against my crotch, and when did she get naked?

Her breasts are rubbing against mine and I whimper. I can't think, can't think if my breasts ever needed to be touched this badly, god. "Help me?" I ask. 

"Forget?" she says. "Yeah. I'll help you forget him." Carol has her hand on her clit and she's working it, she's rubbing against my leg and she brings her hand up and fucks my mouth and it tastes like her and her other hand is in my hair holding me down. Carol's fucking my mouth in time with the way she's rubbing on my leg and she's got her eyes closed and I am so fucking glad she has short nails because her fingers are long and it's more like sucking a guy than you'd think, especially because she's angry at me, and she doesn't care. She's angry because she cares. And because she cares she fucks my mouth deep and pins my head to the bed because caring about me has got to be the fucking shittiest job in the Avengers. Carol comes while I'm choking on her hand, and I'm glad it's not my face between her legs because she clamps down with her thighs and she's a fucking Kree warrior and she's strong, so much stronger than I am. Carol pulls her fingers out of my mouth and half-falls on me. She's panting. So am I.

"You're my only friend," I tell her.

"Only because you're a dick when you drink and you're a bitch when you're sober."

I shift a bit and kiss her mouth, mostly. "Please."

" . . . yeah?" Carol put her hand against my crotch. She makes a fist and starts rubbing hard, knuckles shoving against me but not inside. "You're too drunk to come."

"Maybe." I squirm under her. It hurts. It feels good. "Don't stop."

"Fuck you, Jessica Jones," Carol says. She bites at my neck and ear and she's sloppy and careless and she's practically hitting me now, almost hitting me with her fist, except not really because she could kill me if she hit me. And her mouth is wet and her teeth feel like hot pincers which Killgrave liked the little fucker except this is different and I can actually feel her fist, I can feel it through the numb drunk spinning and something happens, maybe not orgasm, but something hot and wet and shaking enough, enough to feel good.

I push at her. "Enough."

"You are too drunk."

"Yeah."

Carol gets off the bed. She does some stuff. I see her standing at the side of the bed. "I put a garbage can here, next to your bed. For when you puke."

"You are my only friend."

"I can't do this again, Jessica," she says. Carol smooths my hair back. She pulls the sheet up from the foot of the bed, where I always kick it. "This didn't happen, and I'm not doing it again." She pats my cheek. "Take the job Murdock is offering, Jess. And don't call me again."

She locks the door on the way out.


End file.
